


hold your breath, dear

by misskatieleigh



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Infidelity, Star Wars Rare Pairs Exchange 2017, past Galen Erso/Lyra Erso
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-01-30 18:44:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12659235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misskatieleigh/pseuds/misskatieleigh
Summary: It wouldn’t be a surprise, to those that knew him, that it wasn’t the kindness of a scientist in a canteen that brought Bodhi Rook to the side of the Rebellion. No, that particular victory came from the scientist’s wife, of all people.





	hold your breath, dear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rosecake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosecake/gifts).



It wouldn’t be a surprise, to those that knew him, that it wasn’t the kindness of a scientist in a canteen that brought Bodhi Rook to the side of the Rebellion. No, that particular victory came from the scientist’s wife, of all people.

There might be a universe where Lyra Erso died in the cold black soil of Lah’mu, but in this one, she lets herself glance at her husband for a second too long. Long enough for the stormtrooper guards to disarm her before she can sign her death warrant with the pulse of a blaster. Here her death comes with the slow crush of time, watching her husband slip further and further away.

* * *

Eadu is a desolate place, everywhere outside the base lashed by the constant drench of cold rain. There is nowhere for her to run, so they allow her a measure of freedom; the corridor between her quarters and the mess hall, a rarely used rec room with a broken holoprojector. One window that looks out over the shuttle landing pad. She meets Bodhi Rook in the mess, the need for food over comfort driving him to walk the conveyor line with shaking hands clenched round a tray and water dripping from the ends of his hair.

He is beautiful and hollow, standing outside of himself in this in between place. Lyra Erso can relate. The pilot seems surprised when she takes his tray out of his hand, but he doesn’t know her and he can’t afford to object. Instead he follows her down the well worn path to her room, hesitating in the doorway when she places his tray on the desk next to her bed. His eyes draw over her, and for a moment she remembers that she was lovely once, at least in Galen’s eyes. She doesn’t know what Bodhi sees, but he comes into the room and shuts the door behind himself.

His hair drips cold water onto her skin, a sharp contrast against the heat of his mouth, and she feels alive for the first time in twelve years.

* * *

In the darkness of her room, he gives his confession. This is the sixth time they’ve met, the sixth time she’s drawn gasping breath out of his lungs, and the first time they’ve spoken anything of worth to one another.

“I come from Jedha you know. I wonder sometimes if they realize that they’re sending me home over and over again. Everytime I leave it feels less like the place I came from.”

He turns his face, cheek rough with stubble against her breast. His voice rumbling through her is almost as satisfying as his fingers inside her had been. He breathes and listens to her heart below his ear. She says, “They know. They just don’t believe that you’ll do anything about it.”

His hand slides down to her knee, lifting it up over the crook of his arm. She is still wet and swollen from before, but he slides inside like gears slotting into place. If she ever thought she could forget his youth, his libido would prove her wrong. She’ll ache in the morning, but at least she’ll remember he was here.

* * *

The rapid knock on her door startles her out of sleep, reaching under her pillow for a blaster that isn’t there. She pulls on a robe, raising the lights up enough to walk without tripping and opens the door. Surprisingly enough, her husband is the last person she expects to see standing there. Her first thought is that he looks old and she almost laughs.

“Well, I suppose you’re coming in,” she says. He hesitates and a weak wisp of anger flutters through her. Then he steps inside and pushes the door closed.

Galen reaches out, fingers glancing off her wrist and she steps back. His mouth stretches into a humorless smile. “Suppose I deserve that.”

Lyra almost doesn’t respond. She remembers loving him once, though, so she meets his eyes. “What do you want, Galen?”

“Your pilot.”

Lyra huffs, a smirk tipping across her face. “Oh, are we sharing things now?”

Realization dawns in a slow slide across his face, eyes growing wide. “That wasn’t what I meant.”

Lyra shakes her head, sighing. “What do you want Bodhi for?”

His face twists almost imperceptibly at the pilot’s name, the tiniest flinch like he’s been stung. “I need him to bring a message to Saw.”

“No.”

Lyra turns her back to Galen, folding her arms across her chest. Once upon a time he would have wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her head. Now he stands beside the door, unmoveable. “Lyra, this is the only chance we have of warning them.”

She knows, in her heart of hearts, exactly what sort of monstrosity the Empire has been constructing, the destruction that the man she once loved is capable of creating. That he dare ask her to risk the only source of joy left to her is not surprising. They both know she will ask and they both know that Bodhi will do this, for her, and probably die in the process. They know this because Lyra has always been able to find the martyr in the crowd.

Galen leaves without another word, the slim heft of a data card burning where he presses it to her palm.

* * *

Lyra whispers the words into the crook of Bodhi’s neck in the early hours of morning. His hair has come free of its bonds, and she wraps the weft of it around her hands like she could set it to loom and form a tapestry. His heart beats steady and true, hands raking a slow line down her spine and back up again.

“Please,” she says. “For me,” she says.

He rests his chin against the crown of her head, holds her against his chest like she is precious and worthy of his arms.

The dawn rises over the horizon, rain stilling to a drizzle in a pause so brief that the crewman in charge of the landing pad swears it never happened. Lyra watches the golden light touch Bodhi’s eyes, memorizing the warmth of them against the black of his hair and the faded blue of his uniform. The data card rests against his ankle inside Imperial issue boots. He attempts a smile, silhouetted against the window and then turns toward his ship.

* * *

The bomb clatters into the hold of the ship, red lights blinking down a timer. Bodhi feels his heart stop and restart, like time ceased to exist for just a moment. He closes his eyes.

“This is for you, Lyra.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to A for checking this over and telling me it wasn't garbage. :D


End file.
